I am somewhat allergic to food nomenclature: zero-waste, plant-based, seasonal, small plates, “live cultures,” foraged, farm-to-fork. It’s not that these are inherently off-putting concepts, but I associate them with “foodie” fads, gimmicks and big egos. All of those trendy labels could apply to the food cooked by the “philosopher chef,” a Buddhist nun called Venerable
Some 25 years ago, I walked into the University of South Carolina library to check out a book on the history of barbecue. I had just finished a PhD in American literature, but had become more interested in culinary history. I had also taken to driving the state’s backroads, seeking out old-school barbecue restaurants. Researching
About 15 miles off the I-80, tucked away in the Cleveland suburb of Warren, you’ll find a delightful bit of yesteryear, preserved from the 1970s and serving up your childhood dreams. Here you’ll find a Pizza Hut that forgot to evolve into a quick counter-service and delivery outpost like almost all the others. I had
